She’d been a nervous wreck before their date, but they were halfway through a delicious tortellini dinner and he was so open and easy to talk to, she couldn’t even remember why she’d been nervous about their evening together. He told her he’d become an ob-gyn because his father had been one, and that his father had loved his job so much that even when he’d come home at three in the morning after a difficult delivery, he still glowed from bringing life into the world. Damon tossed jokes into his stories, so comfortable in his own skin, a stark contrast to the herculean efforts it took to learn anything about Diesel. Her body flooded with heat at the thought of Diesel and that kiss…

God, that kiss. She’d relived it a hundred times. Her thoughts started to drift to how it had felt to be crushed against his hard body, to be devoured by his desire. What was she doing? Diesel was a no-go, and if she wasn’t careful, thoughts of him would ruin her date.

She tried to push thoughts of Diesel away, scrambling for something to say. “So, how many of your patients hit on you?” She cringed inwardly. It was the first thing that popped into her head, no doubt because Izzy and Josie had been begging her to ask him.

He laughed and sipped his wine. “I don’t notice that stuff.”

“Come on, everybody notices that stuff.” She had a feeling this attentive man noticed everything.

He smiled. “I’ll sound conceited or arrogant if I admit that.”

“You just admitted it,” she teased. “Curious minds want to know. Spill it, Doc.”

“Fine, but remember, you asked. The first thing single women look at is my left hand. Once they notice there’s no ring, that’s when things change, and they go from nervous to flirtatious.”

“I can just imagine the conversations.” She made her voice higher. “While you’re down there…”

They both laughed.

“You’re not far off, believe it or not.”

“I believe it. So, why are you still single?” She ate a bite of tortellini.

“I’m old-fashioned. I want what my parents have, and I guess I haven’t met the one yet.” Heat flickered in his eyes.

She took a drink, silently urging the butterflies she’d felt toward him the other day to swarm or goose bumps to chase up her limbs, but there wasn’t even a flutter. Diesel must have broken me. A flutter stirred in her chest with the thought of the brooding growler, and she nearly choked on her wine, coughing and clearing her throat. Damn you. She sipped her water.

“You okay?” Damon asked.

“Mm-hm. Yes. Thanks.”

“Now it’s my turn to ask the uncomfortable questions. Wayne hasn’t told me much about you. Where are you from?”

“I grew up in Virginia Beach.”

“That’s a nice area. What brought you here?”